Nostalgia that hits all of us eventually

WHAT do you miss most about ‘Old Kuching’?

Trees! I miss those trees!

There used to be trees all over Kuching, a fact commented on by visitors from overseas: “Oh, your town is so green!”

Trees were part of the landscape, and intended to provide shade to the vehicles.

But the new fashion appears to be to cut them down.

Remember the trees on both sides of the Jepun Lo leading to the Pending Point?

They’re gone!

Instead are blocks of heavy-duty plastic with the word ‘KUTS’, which stands for the Kuching Urban Transportation System.

A railway of sorts will travel on this route eventually, I’ve been told.

I hope the problem of traffic congestion in this area would be solved once the trains are running.

Can’t wait to get on that train – and then, they can plant more trees along the route.

Meanwhile, please do not cut down those trees on both banks of the road that leads from the bridge through the Isthmus, and to the port at Senari and Muara Tebas.

A fine seafood restaurant is there. The temple is magnificent.

Visitors from Europe love visiting – and they like admiring our trees as they drive along a nice shady road.

There’s plenty of food available in every nook and corner of Kuching.

But I do miss a few of the old-timers, like the uncle who used to cook delicious chicken in the fat of the chicken, not lard.

He had a stall at our favourite rendezvous, called Tiger Garden. Called after the large neon ‘Tiger Beer’ sign – the first of its kind in Kuching I think.

Breakfast at Fook Hoi was on the agenda of many church-goers; it was sort of the second blessing after the service was over.

During the Indonesian Confrontation (1964-66) soldiers from the Commonwealth called this kopitiam ‘F…Hoi!’

And then there was the home of Sarawak Laksa, at Carpenter Street.

Can’t remember the name, but I do remember a large shaggy dog that used to sleep on the doorstep.

Not exactly food, but there used to be a group of elderly gentlemen sitting on the back staircase of Electra House – chatting in various dialects, smoking, watching the world go by.

Some of them were waiting for the newspapers, which were sold on the front steps.

I sometimes joined them there waiting for my copies of the Straits Times and The STAR.

My wife told her friends that I could not survive without these two newspapers.

And while we sat there, we watched the cars.

Who remembers the Morris Minor with a red indicator popping out to show it would turn?

Other drivers simply stuck their arm out of the window to tell the other drivers that they were about to turn left or right.

Every Sunday afternoon in Kuching, weather permitting, the Sarawak Constabulary Band performed at the decorative little bandstand on the Sarawak Museum ground.

This was a Sunday treat for the whole family.

We strolled around the well-maintained grounds while enjoying the music.

A nephew, Samin, played the trumpet in the band.

A friend, Radin, played the saxophone.

Uncle Brangka Bayang played the bassoon.

Quite a family affair.

The conductor, Insp Joshua Angie, was an old schoolmate from Christ Church School in Stunggang, Lundu.

The music ranged from the classics to modern Malay songs.

It wasn’t just the music.

We met old friends and their families.

Young fellows paraded in small groups, eyeing the girls who did the same.

People didn’t ‘date’ in those days; they had their own little ways to find a friend, so the Police Band provided a useful service.

I miss this musical performance.

What I would like to hear again is live music in restaurants, not a squawking loudspeaker.

Who remembers the versatile pianist at the San Francisco Restaurant at Ban Hock Road, Kuching?

We do have markets, more than before, but there’s nothing like the old ‘cheko’ market by the riverbank.

Fish arrived right by the waterside, were carried up the wet steps in bamboo baskets and poured out on the tiled slabs.

The fish market itself was a building worthy of heritage status, while the vegetable market housed Kuching’s first 24-hour coffee-houses.

Those rather dingy stalls at the far end of the market were open around the clock.

So who wants a cup of coffee and a bowl of mee at 2am?

The lorry drivers who bring in vegetables and other produce at night, that’s who!

And maybe a few Kuchingites on their way home from a party.

In the chicken market, you picked your fowl, handed it to the vendor, and strolled off to buy the day’s vegetables.

Come back in 10 minutes and the cook would have it killed, cleaned and plucked – ready for the pot!

The whole area was good for buying food.

Dates from India Street stalls near the time of fasting month; spices from Gambier Road; fruit stalls along the waterfront at Pangkalan Panjang, mooring site for the boats bringing produce; boats carrying bananas, pineapples and durians from various parts of Samarahan.

Most of all I miss relatives, old friends and colleagues.

That’s the kind of nostalgia that hits all of us eventually.

School and class reunions become less and less numerous; many of the old crowd have been called to meet their maker.

Of those who turn up, I don’t even recognise some of them.

The former ‘class clown’ is bald and walks with a stick; and the ‘glamour girl’ is a plump old lady who talks endlessly about her health problems.

Luckily, I don’t know how I look in the eyes of my contemporaries.

But we still like to meet once in a while, and talk about the ‘good old days’, even if they weren’t always good.

Kuching is a great city to live in, it’s a good place to raise a family in, and it’s my place of predilection for getting old in peace!